Three Words
by you-should-see-me-in-a-crown
Summary: Sherlock angst John goes out with Moriarty Sherlock finds out. One shot.


"John quietly slipped back into 221B to find Sherlock staring at the computer screen.

Sherlock?" he asked. "What are you doing?"

"Why the deerstalker?" Sherlock responded.

John rolled his eyes and walked to his room. Of course Sherlock was on his blog. He was probably changing the things he didn't like. He sighed and relaxed into his bed. He'd spent the night at Jim's again. Sherlock walked into his room, without knocking of course.

"I'm bored John."

John sighed. Of course he was. He wished he was still with Jim. It was so much simpler there. Jim had promised that he'd see him soon, John was looking forward to it. He didn't know what it was about Jim that attracted him, maybe it was the genius or maybe it was the pure fundamental evil about him.

Sherlock walked out of John's room with a sigh. John wasn't acting the same. He obviously had a new girlfriend, or boyfriend... Sherlock swallowed down the jealousy that was surrounding him and dragging him down. He wondered why John didn't like him as anything more than a friend sometimes. He needed to tell John how he felt about him. He'd never felt this way about anyone before, how could he not? He got up and was going to walk into John's room when he heard a beep on his phone. _Hello Sherlock. _ Moriarty, of course it was. _I'll be seeing you soon. xxx. _ Sherlock wondered what Moriarty wanted. He didn't like being around Moriarty, whenever he was around him he often didn't know what was going to happen. He didn't like not knowing. It made him feel stupid. He guessed this was how normal people felt.

John started as his phone vibrated in his pocket. _See you in 5 mins hun. xxx _. John started, he knew where to go. Of course he did. It was almost the same. John rolled off of his bed and started walking to the door.

"Are you going out to meet her?"

John started as Sherlock started to speak. He hesitated for a moment before replying "Yeah. And yes, I'll pick up some milk on my way back."

Sherlock was puzzled, John was clearly hiding something but what? And why? He waited a few seconds before following him. He followed John down the streets and to the park. He watched John walk up to a park bench and sit down. He was about to walk over to him and then he saw another figure, about the same height as John walk over. Moriarty! What was he doing there.

John stood up as he saw Jim walking towards him. "Heya Jim." He reached out a hand which Jim took. "Hiya Sweetheart." He leaned in and kissed John. John kissed Jim back, surprised. Jim was normally against public displays of affection. He put his hand in Jim's pocket and Jim put his in John's as they walked off.

Sherlock stood dumbstruck. He couldn't believe what was happening. How could John abandon him like this? And who for, for Moriarty? Sherlock called out "JOHN!" John kept walking, he couldn't hear him. Moriarty turned and waved at Sherlock with a stupid grin on his face. Sherlock turned away. He walked. And then all of a sudden he was running. He kept running and running and running. All of a sudden he found himself up on a rooftop. He stopped for a moment. What was he doing? He sat down on the edge with his legs dangling over the side. What was life without John? And all of a sudden e couldn't breathe. He just couldn't breathe. Moriarty had to take everything from him didn't he? What was life without John, he thought bitterly. Sherlock reached into his pocket for the bottle of pills there. No, Sherlock didn't want to go like that. Not now. Sherlock stood up shakily. He walked to the edge and then he took one step As Sherlock fell his life flashed before his eyes. There was Moriarty saying _Don't be afraid Sherlock. Falling's just like flying but with a more permanent destination. _And then there was John, that cute idiot. He could almost see him looking up at him. _Goodbye John._ Sherlock whispered into the air and he closed his eyes.

John watched Sherlock fall, uncomprehendingly. What was happening? And then he reacted. Too slowly. "Sherlock!" The cry was ripped from his lips as he watched Sherlock, **his**Sherlock fall. How could he be so foolish as to think of Jim, Moriarty, whatever you wanted to call him, was in love with him, John Watson. Moriarty only ever wanted one thing, to cause pain. And he'd succeeded. Sherlock had by chance fallen onto a mattress that had been placed there, behind the moving van that was there, stacked with furniture. A crowd gathered around them as Sherlock slipped into a coma.

Sherlock opened his eyes, it hadn't worked. He wasn't dead. Why not? John had his head in his arms, tears running down his cheeks. Taking his pulse. Of course, that was the doctor in John, why couldn't he leave him to die?

After that there were flashing lights, ambulances, but nothing for John. All he could do was watch Sherlock half dead, half asleep. Sherlock wasn't going to wake up. That was all John knew.

Sherlock opened his eyes and found himself back into 221B Baker Street. He watched John come out of his room and see him. "Anything new? John asked." This didn't feel quite right and Sherlock didn't trust his senses. But after a minute he relaxed. Nothing had happened. Why should anything have? What was there to happen. His phone beeped. Mycroft. Again. Worrying unnecessarily.

John watched Sherlock. He saw Sherlock's eyes flicker under his eyelids and wished he was there in the dreams of Sherlock. It had to be kinder there, and he would be with Sherlock. John put his hands into his pocket and found a cold hard cylinder. The pills he had taken off of Sherlock. Pills that would mean an end to all of this. To this regret. John picked up a pen and a piece of paper and wrote some words. He got up and left the hospital for the first time in days. He walked up flight and flight of stairs, John walked for a small infinity. Up to the rooftop where Sherlock jumped from. He lay down and put his cheek to the tarmac. The tarmac was too hot, it burned him, his face. He didn't care. He deserved the pain for what he had done to Sherlock. He picked up the pills and with shaking hands shook one into his palm. He put it to his mouth and he lay where he was. He allowed it to dissolve on his tongue. He still didn't move. He didn't care anymore. For the next half hour he lay there. He didn't make a sound. His thoughts travelled to the note left on the bedside table. He imagined Sherlock sitting up, looking around and not seeing John. And then he'd see the paper. The paper with three words. The last three words that would ever be uttered by John Watson.

_Goodbye Sherlock Holmes._

The paper that Sherlock would never see.


End file.
